


Theatrix!

by MusicMuseum



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Gotham - Fandom
Genre: Crushes, Cutting, F/F, F/M, Infatuation, Insanity, Jerome as comic relief, Love, Multi, Theo Galavan bashing, Trigger Warnings, grumpy misunderstood teens, kick ass music
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-12
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-26 00:00:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4981852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MusicMuseum/pseuds/MusicMuseum
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maribel is trying to find her way in the shit-hole that is Gotham (even though she does have some semblance of respect for the twisted city)<br/>All Jerome wants is to get to know her.<br/>Unfortunately, he has the tendency to make her life more difficult than it already is.</p>
<p>"She has a she has a simple, albeit breathtaking, natural look to her, and Jerome can't help but be entranced by her beauty."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Maribel

 

The front door slams with such a force that the entire house, as sturdy as it was, quivers in fright. All the inhabitants are alarmed at the disturbance, and the few who were sleeping receive a rude awakening. Jerome was in the middle of some much needed beauty sleep when the bed-frame gave a violent shake. (His new bed was doing absolute wonders for his back! By having a circus and an asylum as your only prior residences, your options on bedding are rather limited) He is, to be frank, terribly irritated at the disruption. He waits patiently to see if he can hear anything to clue him to what happened, but all he gets is the sound of a car speeding off and a loud thump, which is followed by Greenwood swearing. Jerome's mood brightens considerably at the prospect of the idiot breaking something in his body.

Silence follows. Jerome could quite easily pretend like the instance didn’t even occur and fall back into dreamland, but curiosity gnaws at him until he throws off his covers and exits the room. His bare feet produce no sound as he makes his way down the hallway. The inability of his thin shirt to protect him from the briskness of the air makes him regret not grabbing a robe, but he continues on until he reaches the stairwell on the right. He presses his body up against the cool wood and tries to get a good view of the door from between the columns. 

While the ex-inmates _ were _ admittedly crazy, they weren't  entirely stupid. They had no clue as to who would dare barge into the apparent safe-house, and they were obviously unexpected, considering the ridiculous hour and lack of prior warning from Galavan. He was a man with a plan, a very precious plan at that, and he wouldn't risk it by allowing some poor sod to see them, which would undoubtedly lead to the responsibility of the Arkham break-out being placed on him. This wouldn't be so much of a problem, of course, if the criminals didn't have to be thrown back into that hell-hole, which was something  none of them were interested in.

What Jerome sees is an agitated woman. Her posture is tense, barely noticeable through the thick green coat and dark messenger bag adorning her slim physique, but his keen sight can pick up the way her shoulder blades are knitted together. Loosely braided hair falls more and more from it's fixed position every time she aggressively shakes her head at her pale trembling fingers. A large brown backpack sits haphazardly at her feet, but no other baggage accompanies the brunette. It appears she won't be staying long. 

Just as the girl was able to get the massive door relocked, Galavan rounds the corner.

"Greetings, Maribel," the trespasser whips around quickly, nearly tripping over her bag. "What brings you here at such an hour?" It sounds almost like an accusation. 

The initial surprise melts from Maribel's face and is quickly replaced with disdain.

Maribel grabs her bag and approaches Galavan until he has to crane his neck downwards to meet her narrowed gaze. Jerome thinks the whole situation is down right hilarious. The mystery girl demands all the attention in the room. She looks very  under-dressed and  worldy compared to Galavan, but even the few actions he'd already witnessed from her are far more captivating than Galavan's ever could be. Not that Jerome had a problem with the man, no, not at all, (He was allowing him to finally take the lead role he knew he'd always have; not some undeservingGrayson or Lloyd _)_ because the man _was_ rather interesting, but he paled in comparison to the fire in the shorter woman's eyes. 

 

The tension was thick between the two, (or perhaps it was a heady combination of malice and impatience) and could be felt all the way to where Jerome stood. Unbridled curiosity boils in him at the possibilities of what she might do, but is disappointed when she merely sidesteps him and makes her way into the room Galavan emerged from, obviously peeved by the presence of the man. Had she been hoping for the sister? 

Once the two clear from the foyer, Jerome quietly pushes off the stairs, and Barbara appears from a room somewhere to the left. How many rooms did this place have, again? He meets Barbara's questioning gaze with a quirked brow and a shrug. 

He silently tiptoes over to Dobkins, who has a clear view of the parlor from his position on the right side of the entryway, and gives a light shove to signal him to move over. The surprised man nearly yipes as he jumps back, almost knocking down a bust of some good-doing Gothamite, which, from his understanding, was a true rarity in this city. Jerome was unsure if the still-present-shock was caused either because of Dobkin's well-hidden but equally humungous fear of being caught eavesdropping, or because of the fact that the presence of the redhead scares him shitless. The latter was much more probable, and that alone feels

Oh

So

_ Satisfying. _

Jerome bares his teeth, pulling a face that closely resembles a Cheshire grin, and places a slender finger over his lips. The looney looks as though pissed himself right there on the floor. Pleased with the response, he carefully peeps around the corner so as to remain hidden, and notes, as Maribel peels off her jacket, which reveals a navy blue sweater bunched up at the elbows, that there are various colored scars covering her arms. From his distance, Jerome notices how the different hues blend and twist around each other to form a pleasant view, like something akin to a piece of art.

Apparently, Galavan doesn't feel the same.

"You've been at it again," he mutters, eyeing her wrists, disgust skillfully disguised under false concern. He steps forward and raises his hand to grab the glass of alcohol she had poured herself, but she shifts quickly to the right and knocks some of it back. He offers her a look of contempt and says something about bad habits and medicine. She gives a sarcastic laugh, but it's weary and small and has no conviction behind it. 

"What's it matter? I'm already drunk. A little more can't kill me," Maribel says bitterly as she takes another drink. _"_ _Besides_ _,"_ she grimaces, disgustedly looking at the contents of her glass. "I think this shit you have is sobering me up. I take it Tabitha wasn't with you when you got it. You were always horrid at picking good liquor." The last bit is said quietly with what sounds like a hint of fondness, something Jerome knows is only reminiscence leaking into her voice. It's exactly how his memories sound when he thinks of past moments spent with his _dearly_ departed mother, specifically when he killed her. The room goes silent. While Jerome can't see the woman's face, he can see that Galavan's is stoic and expressionless. 

The room stiffens when Maribel slams her glass down with as much force as she did closing the door. Jerome's stomach clenches. 

He believes the house, and everything inside it, hates her, considering her untamed aggression. He listens closely as the floorboards moan in protest as she walks towards a nearby chair, and he has to duck some to avoid her attention. Perhaps the house had hated her for a long time already. Or maybe  she was the one who hates  the house , and it woefully accepts the abuse.

Either way, it clearly wasn't going put up with her shit. Jerome barely bites back a laugh when she coincidently stumbles over the carpet and curses at it. The hatred between the two is definitely reciprocated. 

_ "Well, now, you stupid loony," _ a voice catcalls from somewhere inside his head.  _ "Homes can't feel!"  _ Jerome exasperatedly rolls his eyes.

_ "Then it's probably just the crazy talking!" _


	2. Meeting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Maribel," He finally gets to say, and the name rolls off his tongue with ease. Jerome flashes a genuine grin. "It's so very wonderful to meet you."

 

Maribel falls unceremoniously onto the chair and deposits her bag next to it. Galavan takes his place in the matching chair across from her, and glares at the brunette when she takes the liberty of propping her feet up on the table separating the two. The menacing look goes completely unnoticed by Maribel, who appears to be entranced by the ceiling and stares up at it in an unbroken stare. Wondering what could be so fascinating, Jerome glances up, but the only things he spots that are noteworthy are a few miniscule cracks embedded in the otherwise perfect ceiling. When he looks back down, he is met with Galavan's gaze, which is considerably less aggressive than the heated one Maribel received.

 He hesitantly takes a step forward but moves back when he's signaled to wait by a raised hand.  Galavan gives him a small nod of reassurance (not that Jerome needed any, he could tell quite easily on his own that the woman was not an immediate threat) before looking back to Maribel.

 Galavan doesn't even bother feigning a look of concern as he begins to offer Maribel anything she needs, but she already knows it's an empty offer. The only reasons he ever gives anything to others is if it either benefits himself or if it has the possibility of keeping up the façade that he has at least half the worth of a decent human being. Maribel knows better than this though, and briefly wonders why he insists on keeping the act up. 

" _Drop it,_ _ Theodore_," She spits venomously , shifting her now heated gaze from the ceiling to him. "You've always been a greedy son of bitch and you've never cared about anyone but yourself. I'm not here for a pity party anyways. This is a courtesy visit. I tried to contact both you and Tabitha, but apparently no one in this damn house knows how to pick up a phone. Then the craziest thought occurred to me that perhaps you two had changed your numbers so we couldn’t contact you, which, if I might add, is something I would  _ never _ do, no matter how much I hate the possibility of hearing from distant relatives about how absolutely  _ prosperous _ my siblings are in Gotham City, " She lowers her feet and leans forward, poised on the edge of her seat, like a viper getting ready to strike. "But it's evident that I'm the only one in this family who possesses _anything_ even remotely similar to a heart." 

Jerome discerns grimly that  _ Theodore _ doesn’t even possess enough decency to pretend like he's ashamed.

 "I was left only with the option to ride down here for three hours in some dingy taxi through this city's glorious traffic, only to be greeted with shitty brandy and a headache" Galavan, who is already tired of his sister's insistent bitching, rubs his temple with a sigh. He too can feel a headache developing.

As Barbara hilariously gawks at the woman's bold statements, Jerome discovers that her fervent temper and quick wit have an extremely invigorating effect on him. He's amazed at how fast she knocked Galavan off his high horse.

"Why are you here, then? To brutally criticize me? To grate on my nerves until my head blows?" He berates, and tiredly rubs his hands over his eyes, wishing that when he opens them, she will have disappeared. He has no such luck.

"If you keep rubbing your face like that Theo, you might just ruin your perfect complexion." Her voice has gone from semi-irritated to increasingly somber in a matter of seconds. The hole in Maribel's chest had been temporarily filled with the familiar feeling of yelling at Theodore, but it emptied itself as soon as she was reminded of the actual purpose of coming here. 

When he pulls his hands away from his face to shoot a glare, he notices that she now sports an expression similar to that of a person being choked. His expression minutely softens at her distress and his curiosity spikes about her reason for showing.

"Then why?" Maribel hastily stands, making her way back to the alcohol. 

" _Maribel_." He insists. She stops herself from pouring a glass. Her head lowers and she braces herself on the table. A few moments pass, but Galavan waits patiently. 

The air is now thick with a different kind of tension, and Dobkins thinks that perhaps it would be best if they left now, considering how they are intruding on largely personal manner, but Jerome and Barbara remain glued to the wall, seemingly unaffected by the shift in tone.

Maribel crams her hands into the pockets of her ratty jeans and turns, jaw clenched and eyes anywhere but him. As her lips part, she breathes in shakily. As she begins to speak, Jerome hears Greenwood tromping down the stairs. He whips around to get him to shut up, but the dunce is so thickheaded he just gives Jerome a confused face and a loud 'huh?'. Barbara gestures wildly with her hands to try and silence him, but it's to no avail.

"What the  hell is going on down here?"

Jerome grits his teeth and practically growls in frustration at the sheer stupidity of the man before him, and has a sudden urge to slam his head against the wall when he realizes that all conversation in the other room has ceased. Jerome wants to do nothing other than strangle the overgrown child, but he figures as though that wouldn't be very gentleman-like in front of their guest. He three can feel a headache coming on. 

 "I think the better question is who are you," Maribel has recovered from her shaken state, or at least covers it up well, and her tone is much more polite than earlier. Just as Greenwood's about to offer some smartass remark, he's thankfully intercepted.

 "Hello, sister, it's lovely to see you. As much as I'm curious to know as to why you're here, there are some people that I'd like for you to meet first. " Tabitha announces, startling everyone with her sudden appearance. She struts past Jerome and Barbara into the parlor, and is closely followed by Aaron. Tabitha smiles warmly at her sister, and Jerome is mildly surprised at the uncharacteristic display of affection from her. Perhaps it was something only her younger (or, at least, this is what Jerome assumes) sibling brought out in her. She turns and nods in Greenwood's direction.

"This is Mr. Greenwood and Mr. Helzinger." she sat, gesturing in the man's direction. "They are a few of the college students we are currently accommodating while the dorms at Gotham University are being renovated. They were left with no place to stay, and we offered our home out of kindness." Greenwood looks confused by the claim, but wisely decides not refute it when Tabitha shoots him a death glare, which is something all of the  Galavan siblings appear to possess. Maribel responds with an 'oh' and nods politely in greeting. 

"It's a pleasure to meet you. I wasn't aware the two of you had guests. I apologize." She feels slightly guilty at the fact that she had possibly woken the whole house, but she mostly blames Theodore and Tabitha. She would have known if they had answered the phone. Or not changed their numbers.

"Come on, then," Tabitha continues, now speaking to Greenwood, and most likely Jerome and Barbara as well. "My little sister won't bite." Jerome honestly doubts the validity of that statement. Her little sister had just recently torn Galavan a new asshole, and  if being a relative of the strange siblings meant anything, it sure as hell meant that she could bite. Perhaps being bitten by her wouldn’t be so much of a bad thing, though.

Just as Greenwood's about to walk in, Jerome cuts in front of him, eager for his entrance to be first. Greenwood sends him a feisty glare that he promptly ignores, and he strolls right in. His grin falters slightly when he finally gets a look at her that’s not partially obstructed by columns or her messy hair. Her warm brown eyes, which are framed by impossibly thick eyelashes, are widened from the surprise of there being even more of the students present, and her cheeks are rosy from all of the recent attention being placed on her. She's beautiful, though not like the way Barbara is. She tends to layer makeup on quite heavily in the mornings, but from how soft and healthy Maribel's lips look, it seems like all she puts on is chapstick. She has a she has a simple, albeit breathtaking, natural look to her, and Jerome can't help but be entranced by her. 

"This," Tabitha presents in a very Vanna-esque style. "Is Mr. Valeska."  He quickly plasters a smile back on face, stepping forward, and outstretches his hand.

"Yes, but you can call me Jerome, Ms.?" He inquires with his head tilted and raises his eyebrows. He doesn’t really need to ask because he's heard it at least a dozen times, but he knows it's polite mannerism, something she'd surely appreciate compared to Greenwood's rude introduction. A small amount of surprise spreads across her face, and she stumbles some to spit her own name out as she shakes his hand. The nerves in his hand shoot cold sparks up his arms at the contact, and they continue all the way down his back and to his toes.

"Maribel  Galavan ." There's a pause, and she looks at him thoughtfully before grinning pleasantly. "But you can call me Maribel." She reiterates his previous words. Jerome lowers his brows and gives her a knowing smile in return. "It’s a pleasure, Jerome." His smile falters again when he hears his name on her lips. It sounded a thousand times more kind than the usual  spit of hatred.

It was  _ definitely _ more attractive.

" _Maribel_ ," He finally gets to say, and the name rolls off his tongue with ease. Jerome flashes a genuine grin. "It's so very  _ wonderful _ to meet you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter strayed a bit from what I originally planned, but I'm pleased with the way it turned out. If you spot any errors, shoot me a message. What did you all think? Comments, kudos, and bookmarks are the things I live for. Thank you for reading this chapter. Bye!

**Author's Note:**

> Unfortunately, this is unbetad, and I'm constantly swamped with school work. Updates may not always be frequent, but I'll try to get a new chapter out each week. Constructive criticism is much appreciated, and is always welcomed. Comments, kudos, and bookmarks keep my motivation flowing (thumbs up)  
> What do you guys think? Should I change tenses, work on characterizations, etc?  
> Thank you for reading this chapter, and I hope to see you next time. Bye!


End file.
